Thin as Rice Paper
by PinkWhirlWind
Summary: It's after the series and all the boys have gone on with their lives. Aya-chan has gone to France. Ran has gone back to university. Ken is coaching, but Omi has noticed that Youji is growing thin. Youji has a secret
1. Default Chapter

Thin as Rice Paper

By Nix Winter

Disclaimer: I don't own WK

Notes: There is a poll at Please come vote for who Youji should be with!

Come to the yahoo group nixfics

groups. yahoo. com/group/nixfics/

Youji

It was winter. Cold. Aya hadn't spoken to Youji in six months, not more than a mission or a flower arrangement required.

It was because of a single kiss at the beginning of summer. Youji had been drunk, smoke clinging to him like amorphous gray memories, ghosts that waited for his next breath to be drawn in. Youji thought of that one kiss often, of how Aya's fingers had touched his cheek. In that moment, that short little moment, Youji had remembered what it was to be alive again.

And then it had gone away.

When Aya-chan left for France, fall had turned into a dark time for Aya, then they'd lightened, and Aya's life went on. He returned to university. He became Ran again.

They spoke of the kiss. Once. Ran told him not to worry about it. Youji's spark of life that he'd been holding to so tightly, died.

Now it was winter. And cold.

"Do you want a brownie, Youji," Omi asked, setting the brownie down on the counter next to Youji, smiled brightly.

"Not right now, Omi, thanks," Youji said, continuing work on an arrangement of purple orchids.

Krittiker had moved on from them, for now. Left them to heal after the Temple went into the ocean.

"Are you sure? Do you want some coffee?"

Youji wasn't part of Ran's life. Ran was moving towards being someone, someone clean and decent again. Omi'd said that Ran was going to be an accountant. "Sure, Omi. If you want."

It would be coffee that didn't get drank, but whatever. A slender finger traced an orchid petal, a violet velvet reminder. Aya, no Ran, had the most beautiful eyes. Youji wasn't good enough for him. He knew he should just think differently, just move in a different direction, because he knew he was dying without Aya.

That's why he'd chosen the slowest death. Maybe he'd drink the coffee that Omi was bringing him. Maybe his stomach would just throw it back up. Probably not. His body was pretty good at surviving. It would just make it take longer. Some part of him wished that Aya would walk through the door. No, Ran, and well, Ran was off at University.

Omi set the coffee down, and smiled. It was a smile that made Youji take a step side ways. Why he hadn't seen the big whole in his plan before, he wasn't sure why he hadn't seen it before. They were going to notice if he starved himself to death. For a brief flash, he thought about doing something quicker, warm, light brown coffee in his hands, eyes on the snow. He thought about just going for a walk.

"Youji?"

He smiled at Omi, a pain in his chest as his resolve broke. "No. I'm not okay, but it's not the first time. You don't have to worry about me, Omi-kun. I wouldn't do anything to let you down."

"I wasn't worried about me, Youji-kun."


	2. two

Thin as Rice Paper 2

Disclaimers: I don't own WK

By Nix Winter

The coffee went untouched. He'd meant to drink it. Omi was studying in the back and Ken was at his second job, a coaching job, and there were customers. Youji just didn't have much for appetite. He smiled. He sold flowers. He wished for that moment when he'd felt alive, the moment when Aya had kissed him.

It wasn't like a whole life could settle around one moment. He picked up the glass cleaner and sprayed the cooler. Yes, a life could center around one moment. For the longest time his life had centered on Asuka's death, then Neu. So Aya had kissed him. That didn't mean the red head loved him.

He reached behind him, patted his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. It had been that coffee, really, that made him not want to die. Or maybe he hadn't really wanted to die, he'd just lacked sufficient will to live? "Omi!"

"Youji?" The younger man stuck his head out the door, a milk moustache on his lip, of all things.

"I'm going out. Watch the shop." He stood his ground, uncomfortably aware of how unlike his old self he sounded like, how he didn't fill out his sweater the way he used to. He could see himself passing through a club unnoticed now, just some skinny blond man with no meaning.

"Where are you going?"

And there it was, this little bit of worry and pity that Youji had sensed with the coffee. So it had been five days since he'd eaten. It wasn't like that had made huge changes in his appearance. Maybe it had just peaked what had been a slow slide. He crossed to Omi, leaned a little so he was looking right into his friend's eyes. "I'm alright. Not great, but I'm okay. Thank you for the coffee, Omi-kun."

Omi stepped into the shop, closing the door behind him. "Youji, I want to listen to you whenever you'd like to talk."

"I know, Omi-kun," Youji said, and he did know that, but there were things one couldn't even talk about, even if one wanted to. One couldn't really say that a moment a go I wanted to die, thanks for the coffee. "I'm just going out to think for a while. Walk a little. I'll be back."

"Okay, Youji-kun," Omi said, both hands on the doorknob behind him. It wasn't like one could say, you look like Death is leaning on your shoulder. Why didn't you drink the coffee?


	3. three

Thin as Rice Paper

By Nix Winter

Disclaimer: This version of the story is done ala wk, and I do not own Youji or Aya, or Omi, or even Tokyo.

Youji walked. One sidewalk moved into another. Clubs he'd known, music bleeding into the street, bleeding lust, hands in his jeans, head down, he walked on. It used to be his place, tight pants, shirt short enough to show off pale lean belly, hair with just a little glitter, dancing, sex in the back even, passionate, hungry kisses that always left him empty.

About five blocks from the an old club, where he'd half expected someone to recognize him, to call out to him, he sat down on some cold stone stairs, head resting against a metal railing, forearms on his knees, lanky hands hanging between them. There was no where to go.

His mind glided back to Asuka, to their office, and days of work and struggle, of rent just made, and laughter. "Youji! I brought you noodles," she said, so cheerful, so untouched by darkness.

He'd leaned back in his chair, secretly imagining himself to be Sam Spade, a Styrofoam bowl of udon and miso held in one hand, sticks in the other. "I found the deed, while you were out shopping noodles," he'd said, so proud of himself. They'd found the inheritance that a brother was stealing from his sister.

He'd saved a little girl once, found her locked in a closet in the school's janitor's apartment. He and Asuka had made the newspaper, six pages back on the bottom right hand corner. The girl's mother hadn't even known she was gone yet. They'd just been tracking the guy for child support he owed his wife. Maybe it wasn't that big of a deal, but he'd been so proud of it at the time.

He remembered how Asuka smelled like honeysuckle on the night she'd come looking for him. She'd worn a blue cotton dress with just straps over her perfect shoulders. Standing there in his doorway, one hand on the door frame, hips cocked like some sexual gun, blue black heels making her ankles look delicate, god, he'd known she was beautiful, and her smile like sunshine that could dance along the stars. He closed his eyes, banged his head on the railing. If he'd been able to love her the way she wanted, maybe everything would have gone differently.

He'd been nineteen, and so intent on his business, on his goals. It was their business, their future, and they were making a difference in their little part of the world. They'd been friends for so long, grade school, middle school, high school. He'd held her when her mother died. He'd gone with her when her sister married. Christ, they'd even had a couple of fist fights, nothing horrible, but she was his best friend. He'd looked over the top of the reading glasses that only she new he needed for extended research, smiled, dark honey hair falling in his face. "Who's the lucky person? You look great, Asuka!"

She'd crossed to him, and he could still hear the click of her heels, years later, like the tears on his face were from then, not now, or the clicks like little punctuations to her walk were now, not then. Sometimes it was so hard to stay in one time. She'd leaned over, sending honeysuckle over him and sunshine with her smile, and for the first time he really really got it. She was a girl. "You," she whispered.

The twitch. If he could change just one moment, it might be that one. Maybe that's when he'd really started to die. Some secrets we keep even from ourselves. That twitch, that slight pull back from her, had ended his life in a way. "Me?"

"Don't you want to, Youji?" She smiled brighter, but gods, they both knew each other so well. And the past flowed between them like some shared scrapbook of memories. Comments about boys, unisex clothes, total avoidance of sexual comments. "I want you. We could be really good together."

His mouth had been dry then and it was dry now. He'd tried never to be at a loss for words ever after that. "I I, uh, I, maybe, I."

"You're gay," she said, their faces so close together that he could feel her breath. She pulled back, straightening, looking more like Asuka and less like the perfect girl. "I think I've always known."

That was the first time he failed her. It was as though her heart slipped through his grasping hands, one hand to the other, smooth wet glass, to lay shattered at his feet.

Sexuality fell silent between them. She smiled. He smiled brighter. They laughed. He loved her, loved her as the keeper of his secrets and the knower of his soul, cherished her as family for a family that hadn't wanted him. Sitting there on those cold stone steps, he missed her, missed the way she made him feel whole and made him feel like he could do something and hated her for the way he'd been dying since that blue cotton dress.

"Fucking bitch," he screamed, the words following in his mind, 'how dare you die and leave me here like this!'

Everyone he loved, left. Aya's lips had moved over his, light, like the hammer on a glock sliding silently home, then deeper, thin lips tugging at his until he gave in, sucking in the first kiss that had actually touched his inner self, the first time male lips had kissed him, and the first time Asuka's ghost had let go of him. He'd leaned forward into that kiss, almost shy, tongue reaching for Aya's, shivering under Aya's hand at his throat, and then it had been gone. His lips tingled still, and he knew, it had been some kind of stupid mistake.

Aya's voice, calm, untouchable, "It was nothing."

But it hadn't been nothing.

"Ay," a man asked, skinny as Youji, ferret smirk on his face, "Feel better?" He flashed something in folded plastic wrap and Youji sat there, looking at it.

If it hadn't been for Omi's coffee, he would have bought it. "Naw."

And he wasn't going to die. The world could fuck itself. He didn't care how useless he was. He wasn't ready to die. He was going to go see Aya first.


	4. four

Thin as Rice Paper 4

By Nix Winter

Disclaimer: Don't own WK.

groups.yahoocom/group/nixfics/ my fics, possibly some original too

Youji set the beer on the counter, picked a red lighter from the box by the register, and pointed to a box of cigarettes. It must have been late, but he wasn't sure how late. The streets were empty of normal people.

Numb, all the walking had left him numb. About all he could think was that beer had calories. So it was okay to drink beer. He needed something in his stomach. At least until he saw Aya.

If his life had been a story, it'd have no plot. Walking again, it was then that he realized he might really be in trouble, but didn't realize he'd left his wallet on the store counter. He had the beer in a brown paper back, bunched up in his hand, the cigarettes in his pocket, but he didn't use either.

The more he walked the more red the district got. Women wrapped up in cellophane and dreams thrown away like cheap plastic wrap. Leaning against a light pole, Youji felt at home.

Not that he'd lived here in Tokyo then, back when he'd sorted out other people's life knots. He smirked at a Euroasian girl, more red on her lips than could be fit into Aya's hair. The smirk lifted into a smile. Red. Aya.

"Oh, you like what you see, Blondie?" she asked, leaning over a bit so he could clearly see the tiny curves half hidden by hot pink vinyl. "You want to play with these?"

"Not really, Honey," he said, before he could catch the words back. Since that blue cotton he hadn't turned a woman down. He'd given promises that he'd come back, misdirected, but never flat out turned one down. He'd been thinking about Aya, Aya red, Aya damned. "I'm a faggot."

She winked, a genuine smile on her face, making her look ten years younger and less like a pearl lollipop. "You don't look so good, gay boi. I done my number for the night already. You wanna walk me home?"

He took a deep breath, not really believing that she hadn't just pushed him into the street or something. Trust had always been one of his downfalls, really. "Sure."

Aya had had that trust from him the first time, the first day when Youji had carried him upstairs. She took his arm, and his mind went fuzzy, sparkling like a dropped mirror ball, with memories going in all directions. She held onto him, pulling at him, shirt twisting around him.

"Hey! Gay boi! What's wrong with you?" She held on him and he felt like he was going to float away.

Up or down didn't matter, nothing mattered, just beautiful blue violet eyes and that small smile. "I'm so stupid," he said, feeling unforgiving cement under his head.

"What's your name?" She asked, and he understood that tone, pegged her cleanly. She wasn't a sweet. She was a vice cop.

Then his mind wandered again, to the kiss that had pulled him out of the land of the dead, Aya's body up next to him. "Aya."

"Okay, Aya," she said, fingers on his wrist, cellphone blue glowing against her face as she called emergency services. "What are you on, Aya-kun?"

"I bought a beer," he said helpfully.

"Youji," Asuka's voice said, irritated. "You're such a dumb ass. Don't you think you should have talked to him before you collapsed? Don't you really think I love you even if you're gay? Why can't you forgive yourself? I love you, dumb ass."

"I'm a dumb ass," he said out loud, eyes closing for a moment. At least Aya wasn't going to see him like this. He'd won really. Who would have thought? Freedom. "I did try to eat today."

"When was the last time you ate, Aya?" And already there were sirens. She was good.

"I never got to eat him, but boy did I want to." Then he was standing up next to Asuka and she wasn't Neu, just Asuka. She threw her arms around him, and he felt her, felt the power of her arms and her love and the beating of her spirit heart.

"Asuka! I don't want to die! I want another chance!"

Aya

Ran felt the cold, sudden, hollowing him out and he closed his book. He pulled his glasses from his face. He'd long since stopped questioning his instincts. Youji.

"Yo."

He picked up the phone. "Ken."

"Hi. Aya?" Ken said, the sound of weights falling into place, metal on metal.

"Where is Kudou?"

"He went out. Why?"

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know. He hasn't been out in months though, and he's been looking thin and not so good. I thought it was good he was going out. That man needed to get laid. Fuck. I've been wondering if he's gay or something. What's going on?"

"Just a feeling. Does he have a cell phone?"

"Look, Aya," Ken said, resentment in his voice. "If you wanted to know those things, you should have hung around a bit more. Omi's been worried sick about him. Did you fuck over Youji?"

"Watch who you're speaking to, Hidaka."

"Right. You're the one with the sword," Ken snarled, "If it's any sooth to your soul, Omi's already checked the hospitals for him. No Kudou Youji's in the morgues or hospitals, so chill. He probably just went out and blew off some steam. What is it to you?"

'More than you'd know,' Ran thought. "He's been sick?"

"Aya," Ken sighed, "Are you really concerned? It's not the first time Youji-kun's been out all night."

Wistful? Ran wondered if Ken's feelings were moving towards jealousy. That wasn't something Ran could allow. "He's straight, Ken. That's very important to him. Or didn't you figure that out? Sometimes a person's values need to be respected."

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm not stupid, you know. I see him light up if someone with red hair comes in."

That hung between them, silence over the wires. "I'm going to find him."

"Good luck."

Then Ran hung up on him.

He would find Youji, but the dark emptiness echoed within him and he wondered if he'd made a mistake.


	5. five

Thin as Rice Paper 5

By Nix Winter

Disclaimer: I don't own WK. I do own this story and it's rather personal and important.

Youji rolled over on the bed, right into the sunlight pouring in through the hospital window. Only hospital windows had that completely harsh light, as if it were meant to kill any small living thing. He felt so hollow, like a little blond mouse left in the wall. The tube in his nose promised he wasn't hollow though. He guessed the hospital hadn't approved of his suicide plans. The very edge of his mouth lifted. Next time, he'd try with a sword, be more traditional about it.

He wished Asuka would come talk to him again, or that he was a spirit. He could imagine her spooking him and he'd stagger away from the bed, fall out the window. He'd scream. She'd wave. In his imagination, the story was much more exciting than just what it was. He must have imagined her, holding him, after he'd passed out. She couldn't come back, after all. He'd strangled her.

He closed his eyes and struggled to clear his mind. The flash back, muted and warped, came back to him and Omi was down, poisoned, dying. He loved Omi, his sweet friend, so smiling and accepting and he couldn't let Omi die. The fear rose in him now, so long after it happened, and Asuka, his love, best friend, she was on his back, his wires tightening on her throat, his arms straining to pull to, to chock and he could see her in his mind, a blue summer dress, spaghetti straps, tears on her face, fingers clawing at his wires as his arms pulled tighter.

The liquid food they'd shoved down his nose with tubes wanted to come back up and he clawed at the sheet, at the bed to push himself up before he strangled himself with his own nightmares. By the time he was sitting up, his stomach had rolled back down into the bit of his belly, and his mind had pushed the nightmare farther away. He was insane. Maybe killing people you love did that to you.

What was there, except death?

It wasn't a story book where someone was going to show up and love him.

Though

Most times

When there's no way out, the door is already open.

"Youji?" A soft spoken voice, male, maybe accented with a few too many English books read.

A sense of complete dread filled Youji as he turned to look at the red head in the door way. Not like it could really have gotten any worse, but he wanted the front he had with Aya, wanted the polished clothes and the perfect hair, and a snotty little smirk, and what he had was a hospital gown with blue strips and thinning cotton that left him open down the back, hair flat as yellow rain, eyes a lovely matching red, and all that in a hospital bed with a tube in his nose. Embarrassment that bad should be lethal. Youji just looked at Aya.

The man in the door held his book a little closer, both arms over it.

Tears rose up hot in Youji's eyes, bending the room and Aya. He'd lost, Youji really understood it then. In a way even suicide was a way to keep from being in this place, of being there with nothing left to hide or defend, no hope left, and it was over. Youji leaned forward, knees bent, forehead to the starched cotton sheet.

He heard the book slide onto the table next to his bed, heavy book, cheap plastic, but he didn't expect the hand that settled on his shoulder, warm and solid, not some ghostly old friend.

"I'm glad."

"Excuse me," Youji turned and glared, red wet eyes narrow, and that just made the red head smile.

"I'm glad you're alive. I hadn't prayed since I feared my parents were dead, and then, I just felt you were gone. I'm not who I was. Maybe we can be friends."

"Who are you?" Youji sat up, tried to wipe the back of his hand over his nose, dragged the tube, ground his teeth. "What are you doing here, Aya?"

"I came looking for you," he said, head tilting slightly. "I'm Ran. Aya is my sister. Or you. Did you know you're checked in under the name, Fujimiya Aya?"

"I am?"

"Nurse said you gave that name," Ran said softly. "We need to talk."

A nasty echo washed back in his soul, of Asuka's pity, of her kindness like she'd been the one committing some kind of sin by making him face his own homosexuality. Aya's kiss was still holding him, making him remember hoping for life and as he sat there in that bed, filthy, chest hair charred from being forced back into his body, eyes like wounds into his soul, and he couldn't face Aya, Ran, or whoever he was. "Leave me alone."

"But Youji," Ran protested, fingers reaching for Youji's limp hair. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Anger flashed bright and Youji scrambled off the bed, on the other side, pulling the sheet with him and nearly falling. "What makes you think you could?"

Coldness rose to meet Youji's fire, violet eyes darkening, flashing with a deeper kind of fire than anything that Ran had in his currently life. His eyes roamed up and down Youji, making it very obvious that he was doing it. "Why are you like this? Do you like making me angry?"

"I bet you don't get angry at all in your new little life, do you? How many times in your life did you really feel something that wasn't pity or responsibility? I don't need either from you, 'Ran'."

Responsibility called from his pocket though and Ran pulled it out, flipped it open and turned his back on Youji, just to get a moment of space. The Youji affect, even bedraggled and half destroyed, moved through Ran's blood like the moon pulling tides, drawing him to the man even as he shoved back with all his power. It shouldn't have been so strong. The feeling should have faded, but was as sharp as it always had been. "Fujimiya."

"Ran," Aya-chan cried, "There was a woman watching me from across the street. I'm sure she's watching me. One moment she's there, then she's gone. It's very odd. Did you find Youji?"

Why did they both have to be just like each other? Talk non stop. "Aya-chan," he started, the Abyssinian part of his mind processing what she'd said. "I found him in a hospital. Are you alone? The door is locked?"

"Yes, the door is locked.," Aya said. "How is Youji? Why is he in the hospital?"

Ran turned back to Youji, that anger still boiling in his blood and matched just as much with the taller blond. "He's in the hospital because he's stupid," Aya snarled, forgetting he was Ran again, and surprised by the hiss in his sister's breath. "Wait for me. I'm coming."

"Is she okay," Youji asked, one hand holding the hospital gown together in the back.

Ran flicked his phone off, then back into his pocket. "She's nervous. Someone was watching her apartment. You should get yourself together," Ran said, all business now, ignoring the questions he didn't have answers to. Ran swept out without meeting Youji's eyes, forgetting his book, leaving a more open wound between them than there had been.

The anger in Youji though nurtured embers of something alive, the same something that had woken in Youji with that kiss. He was too angry at Aya to die now, craving another argument too much. That's all. He just wanted to finish this with Aya, he told himself firmly, but underneath, he knew he really wanted to start something instead.

At the Konekeo.....

Ken felt slightly badly about the way he'd spoken to Aya. Not very badly, but slightly. Really, he reasoned, Aya had moved on without them and he really suspected something had happened with Youji and Aya, and it was Aya's fault.

He was pacing rather viciously, a ball of pent up energy that was probably more dangerous to the flower's chi than helpful for it.

It was just... something in the air. When the phone ran, he about jumped out of shoes. "Flower Shop," he answered, basic, with all the customer service of a milk carton.

"Leave Tokyo," a female voice said, familiar in a poisonous kind of way, like a nightmare shadowing the afternoon. "Leave now."

"Who is this?" Ken gripped the phone like he could reach through and beat the person. The line went dead, but the hair was still standing up on the back of Ken's neck. "Christ! I am not up for this!"


	6. six

Thin as Rice Paper 6

By Nix Winter

Disclaimer: I don't own WK

Warning: And sometimes when writing comes really slow, I write really short chapters

Youji sat down on the bed, one knee bent, mindlessly pulling at the tube feeding him. When he'd fallen, he'd known, he didn't really want to die, but living held such a deep grief. He wasn't sure when he'd transferred his reason for still living to Aya. It had to have been before the kiss. Aya sure as hell didn't need him though.

Dizziness washed over him and he was sliding off the bed, grabbing at sheets and not catching anything. He was like one great big tear falling, but he sat there on the solid floor head on the crisp sheets and realized he'd become thin as rice paper, delicate as cherry blossoms hiding from a late frost. This was his life though, this rice paper that he hadn't finished writing on.

Pain that he'd been putting off for years misted back. The day his mother had found out that he was homosexual and told him to ask Asuka to marry him anyway, that haunted him now, though he hadn't thought of it in years. He'd sworn that he would, that he'd marry Asuka, that he wasn't homosexual. But. He was.

And because he was, Asuka had died, leaving him too, and it wasn't just that she'd died the first time, he killed her personally the second time. Into that guilt and shame had come Aya, and Aya didn't bow to anyone, didn't flinch for a moment when going for what he wanted. Youji knew he'd slipped in under Aya's wing, hiding there and he'd moved so far from the empty shell he'd been when he'd first carried Aya up the stairs.

'I should know how to find my way,' he thought, smearing tears across his face with the back of his wrist. 'I should know what I'm doing. I shouldn't need him to find my way out.'

The healing felt so close that he could put his hand up to touch and it'd be just on the other side of rice paper. He hid in a house of lies, trying to avoid the shame of other people's disapproval, but the walls were just rice paper. All he had to do was get up, get his clothes, go find Aya, or go find something. It didn't have to be Aya that he held onto, he could go find something else. He could do anything he wanted with his life. It was like he'd died then, there on the street, and been brought back just to have a second chance. Everyone should really have a second chance.

Fear replaced the pain, a sudden swoosh of it, making him shiver and duck his head. He wasn't a child anymore and he wasn't a coward, reminding himself of these things did nothing at all to help. He didn't understand the fear. How could he be afraid when he'd faced down monsters before? When he'd broken into places that could have taught the government how to do security, how could he now be sitting on the floor in tears, clutching a hospital sheet in his fist, terrified to move?

Cool fingers touched his cheek, but he refused to look. Asuka had haunted him for so long that he didn't need to see her to know she was there. "Dieing isn't all that hard," she said, "And it's usually not even your fault, but living, for the next seventy years with this pain is truly frightening. You're angry at him for leaving you to face your fears alone, but you didn't ask him to stay and you left yourself first."

"I'm bad and stupid," Youji whispered, feeling that way, feeling the truth of it to the core of his being that he deserved nothing good and should have to live the rest of his life in atonement for the sin of not being what he should have been in the first place.

"Youji, I love you," she said, voice fading just a little. "Don't be such an unforgiving asshole forever, please? You are a good man, and you always will be. That's just how you are. You screw things now and then, but you really do try. You can be happy. I know you can. I've done all I can for you and I think I've paid back what I can. Don't be afraid of living. No one can do it better than you."

"Afraid of living," he asked softly, feeling the paper house begin to collapse. "I'm not going to be afraid of anything."

"Then get up and go find him."


	7. seven

Thin as Rice Paper 7

By Nix Winter

Today's my birthday. I should get lots written. I've updated my website too. Maybe I'll even get something up there worth reading.

Disclaimers: I do not own Weiss and I don't think I'm getting the rights for my birthday either.

The doctor was a short man, Russian maybe, and Youji felt a strong flare of Japanese nationalism.

"No, you don't understand. I'm leaving," Youji said, smiling as if he wasn't still wearing a faded hospital gown. "I'm alright now, really."

"Aya-san, I really think it is important for you to stay and let us find out why you passed out in the first place. You are very thin. Have you been ill?"

Youji closed his eyes, sighed. "I have been, but I'm feeling better now. I am leaving."

The doctor's eyes narrowed and Youji wondered what was going through his thoughts. At least Kritiker doctors didn't really care about things that didn't affect the job. "You have no clothing. We cut your clothes off of you when you came in. You realize you were having cardiac arrest. You are very ill, Aya-san."

Youji bit the inside of his lip lightly. He hadn't realized how close he'd been to death. "I'm still leaving."

Maybe there was a flash of nationalism in the doctor too. "Have you been having emotional difficulties?"

Leaning just a little forward, eyes narrow, "Are you visiting from another country? Here to learn Japanese medicine?"

"Actually," the doctor said, jaw tight, "I am a radiation specialist here for learning exchange. I got your case because the thinness was so odd."

"So they're not just sticking you with charity cases then?" Youji jabbed. "Can I leave now?"

"As long as you give me your true name and a way to contact you. I would like to follow your case. I thought Aya was a the name of a girl in Japanese. In Russia, men are more concerned about such things. It's nice to see how tolerant the Japanese are, Aya-san."

He wrote 'Hidaka Kenji' and Ken's mobile number on the charge the doctor held out, thinking... 'follow this,' to himself. "I guess you have a lot to learn while you're here then."

And then he was free of the place, in a gift shop tee-shirt and some one else's jeans. He guessed they weren't coming back for them. As he walked down the street, hands swinging in the tolerant Tokyo air, he thought about how his heart had stopped and started again, and that Aya had come to see him, and about the calls Ken was going to get from a nosy Russian, and the world maybe felt a little better.

Note: This is very tiny. I'm sorry it's so small. I'll try to get another part written soon. Maybe it'll go faster if I write many smalls.


	8. eight

Thin as Rice Paper 8

By Nix Winter

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kruez.

Ran made it as far as his car. . He didn't understand what made one person love another. His parents had loved each other. He wondered sometimes where they were when their home blew up. If they'd known about it before they died, if they'd searched for each other, or called to each other.

He wanted to promise them that he'd take care of Aya, promise to be the honorable son they deserved. They were hard to think about, harder now that he was out of Weiss, being Ran again. He'd survived when they hadn't and sitting there, fingers holding white knuckled to the Ferraris' steering wheel, he just wanted to curl up and die.

He'd once said that he and Youji were exactly alike, under the masks they wore. He couldn't love Youji, because loving Youji was like loving himself. While Youji's grief and pain had come out so visibly to anyone who would look, Ran knew his own had gone deeper inward. He needed to be that son his parents deserved, the teacher and decent man that would have made his father smile. He needed a nice little house and a neat suit, a wife maybe and a child who he could tell all about his own father and mother.

But when he closed his eyes, it was Youji's green that he saw. Youji's remembered laughter echoed in Ran's memory, stirring a longing for forgiveness in Ran. Youji was so full of life, even when he didn't know it, when he was dark as the last nasty echoes in some sleazy club, Youji was life.

He hadn't even decided consciously, but his phone was in his hand, the speed dial pressed. He hadn't decided anything, he whispered to himself, mouth going dry.

"Koneko," Omi said, cheerfully, just the slightest question at the end that only another member of their team might really have heard.

"I found him. He's in the hospital. I want you to my sister's place and check on her. She said there was a blue haired woman outside her apartment."

There was a pause. "Sure Aya, I can go over to your sister's place. Where are you going?"

"I'm going back to stay with Youji," Aya said, guilt closing off his throat. He'd chosen something for himself. Tears stung his eyes and he ended the call. "I'm sorry," he whispered family members long passed over. "I'm sorry, but I need something too and I'm losing him."

Youji had seemed so frail, so without time to waste. Aya wanted the powerful man he'd kissed return to him. He wanted it more than he cared about his honor, and that alone meant he shouldn't have this connection with Youji. He should be alone, should spend the next twenty years sitting in his chair, reading books about useful subjects, atoning for his failures. And yet.

He wanted

Craved

To wrap his arms around Youji's slender body and hold him close. He wanted to somehow give his heart to making life better for Youji.

By the time he'd gotten back up to the floor Youji had been on, Youji was gone. Ran finessed his way into talking to Youji's doctor and found out that 'Hidaka-san' had checked himself out only 30 minutes before. Ran told the doctor that he would take care of 'Hidaka-san', make sure he ate, bring him back for a check up soon.


	9. nine

Thin as Rice Paper 9

By Nix Winter

Disclaimer: I don't own WK

Warning: I really am very attached to this story and I'm going to make it over original. Somehow, just wanted to warn, apologize, something. No disrespect is meant at all. This is just an important story to me.

Nine

His smiles didn't work at the bank either. It was completely worthless to have ungodly amounts of money in the bank if one couldn't get any of it out. Hands shoved down into second hand jeans. An honorable person would find a way to do themselves in with a little class, but walking towards home, he could accept that he wasn't an honorable person. He wasn't perfect.

It was okay just to be a pretty waste of space. He did his part to help. The path towards home lead him past the hospital again and he wondered if anyone even knew he'd been there, well other than Aya. That was really the end of that, the end of that kiss and of this painful hope for love and life. It's not like he could have looked worse or been any more worthless than he'd been in that moment. Looks did count, even if he'd never have admitted to any woman he flirted with.

Aya's looks didn't really matter though. It wouldn't have mattered how Aya looked. It had been something deeper, something in the way he moved, some fragile vulnerability under the katana sharp fuck you to the world, that had been what drew Youji. Shoulders hunched, he walked on past the hospital. It was maybe ten miles home. So he'd take his time. It wasn't like there was any shortage of people who would love him, and Youji knew it. He could wrap anyone around his finger, and after he got cleaned up, he might have to prove it.

But.

It was about who he'd love. He had loved Asuka, but not the way he loved Aya, and though he couldn't explain it, he knew it was love. Something deep that spanned lifetimes even, something that bound him. Nothing could be proven or sorted out with Aya now though. He'd let him go, and wait for the next life.

Ran 

Youji would come back to the hospital. The man wasn't stupid. He'd come back to receive treatment and heal from whatever illness gripped him. Ran paced the room that Youji had been in. Maybe it was that he'd been such a regular when Aya-chan had been a guest at the hospital that they didn't bother him, just let him pace around this room that he'd labeled Youji's.

He wanted to know why Youji was so thin. He wanted to know why he couldn't have a conversation with the man he loved. He was going to kill Youji.

Omi would take care of Aya-chan. Standing there in a hospital room, a sense of family crept up on him, and he knew his parents were dead. Gone. He was the one who'd take care of Aya-chan so she had a chance now. He wanted to be done, done with family obligations and debts, revenge and rage. He wanted to be Ran again.

He leaned his forehead against the cool one way glass of Youji's hospital window and wished that Youji would come back already. The man could be anywhere and lost, dying somewhere, but Ran refused to believe that.

His Youji would piss on the moon before he'd come to his knees, Ran thought. He'd counted on that endurance. Always he'd know he'd come back for Youji, unless Youji didn't want him. He wanted to make sure, to give Youji time to decide, to fall in love with someone better first. God, he hadn't expected Youji to fade like that. His beautiful Youji had wasted away, and to keep that from happening, Ran could let go of his honor and his confusion.

He opened his eyes and honor and confusion both flashed away into anger and possession. Youji walked five stories below, shoulders hunched, blond hair flat, head down, and he was headed towards home. "You idiot," Ran hissed. He'd known there was no where for Youji to go, even if he couldn't really explain how he knew, but he'd expected him to come back to the hospital like a rational person. No. A man so skinny the hospital didn't want to let him go was going to walk ten miles or so. Ran was going to beat him to death.

Maybe he'd never been that angry in his life, so angry at the risk to Youji's life and at how vulnerable that left him feeling. He still hadn't expected the floor to move. Palms on the glass of the window, he felt the vibration and still didn't understand. Youji staggered. A hunk of concrete hit the sidewalk beside him, bounced into a black car.

A woman screamed as Ran ran towards the elevator.

"Get under something," one of the nurses yelled at him.

The floor ripped, rose like an ocean wave under him and he left the floor. His shoulder hit the wall and he slide down. The florescent lights above him shattered, spraying itself across the tile in tinkling rain. He curled up, pulling his jacket over his head. Youji. How could he pray to his ancestors for the life of a man he'd already forsworn them for? Omi would be with Aya-chan already. Youji was the one that he needed.

Fire alarms screamed and he moved forward in the red emergency backup lighting, towards the stairs, coat still pulled up to protect his head and neck.


	10. ten

Thin as Rice Paper 10?

By Nix

Disclaimer: I don't own WK

Ten

It started with such a slight shivering, that started at his feet and had reached the back of his neck before he knew it was there. Then the ground danced under him, swaying up. He staggered forward. 'Not now,' he prayed to ancestors who were probably only concern that his name was on the crypt by his spirit hadn't shown up yet.

He shook as he hit the car, exhaustion already demonizing him. The car rocked. Car alarms screamed. People screamed. Concrete slammed into the sidewalk and he went to one knee, leaning against the car. A woman a little farther on fell, skidded on knees protected only by nylons.

Youji moved, running though still crouched over. Fear beat his heart. It couldn't be the end of the world. He wouldn't let it. His fingers brushed over the woman's back as he grabbed a hold of her jacket. She was dead weight as he pulled her up. Fear has a way of making a frozen deer of a person, held in place, eyes on the monster coming. Another chunk of building hit the ground where the woman had been and Youji ran towards an entrance way, the woman held to him with one arm. She'd turned and was clinging to him, crying.

The ground felt solid under his feet again and he put a hand on each of her shoulders, pushing her back a little. "Just an earthquake. It's over now." He smiled, and quite without warning, he felt like his smiles were working again, felt the connection to warmth and kindness within him flare. Youji leaned forward just a little, to look into her eyes. Beautiful dark brown eyes, and he loved her in that moment, loved people. She couldn't have been more than seventeen, but she smiled at him, wincing just a little from the scrap along her cheek.

"Thank you very much, Sir! I will be brave as you are!" She bowed slightly, still smiling.

She didn't know him, was all he could think. He was so afraid. Not of the earthquake, but of some great alone that he didn't want to face. Just walk home and let everything be as it was, just wait it out, and now, heart beating, the scent of blood in the air, and just going home wasn't enough. If Aya loved him or didn't; he'd fight for himself. He liked helping people, and so what was so fucking wrong with that?

Asuka wasn't clinging to him now, even if he didn't know why she wasn't. He caught the girl's hands and pulled them together, palms together between his. "No, thank you! Do you have a mobile phone that can be used?"

"Yes, of course!" She reached for her shiny pink purse, pulling out a little lavender compact type cell phone. "No service," she said. "I have to find my mother."

"There could be aftershocks," Youji pointed out. "We should stay right here. This," he patted the solid marble door way they stood under, "Will protect us."

"The cell towers are down," she argued, as if that changed what nature might do, "And my mother will worry."

"She'll understand that there's no cell signal. That was big. It must have hit all of Tokyo. Is your mother here at the hospital?"

"She is visiting my grandfather." The girl said.

And then the world tilted sideways again, throwing Youji back against the marble so hard his head bounced. He caught the girl 's arm though and both of them were thrown out onto the sidewalk. Her phone skidded forward, spun and went off the side into a storm drain.

She chased after it and Youji let her. There on his knees, riding the earth as Tokyo melted down. He closed his eyes and let the world roll under him. Some things just weren't in a person's control. And some things were. He was going to survive, if he had anything to say about it at all.


	11. eleven

This as Rice Paper 11?

By Nix Winter

Copyright belongs to Project Weiss, I'm sure, at least the characters do. This story is mine.

Notes: So sorry it took so long to update! I had the story all planned out, but just couldn't feel the solution when I sat down to write it. Now it's going to go in a very different direction. Gods save the rubies and moonlight! And please forgive me if this is small, sometimes my chapters are small when I'm struggling with blocks and stress and junk. bows

Chapter 11

Youji leaned against the wall, body shaking, hair clinging to his face and the back of his neck. Dust, sweat, outright fear flattened him and his fingers stroked the wall behind him, rough and broken cement. It was as if he could fade and be thin as a rice paper wall, far from the cries of sirens and the crying child he couldn't find in the darkness. He wanted the feeling of wanting to live again. Damn selfish of him, he thought as Tokyo was falling down around his head.

He wanted to see Aya again, with stray red hair fanning across a pale face, violet eyes intent on some innocent flower arrangement, as if that's all they'd ever been. He wanted to hear Aya's voice again, even if all Aya had to say was that he was an idiot. Life was so precious. If all he had for the rest of his life was time to think of Aya's memory, it was worth having.

There had to be someway to get close to a straight guy that hated him. And as if his soul wanted to prove that the insane suicidal urges weren't gone, he considered wooing Aya-chan, marrying her, and showing up for New Year's Celebrations with a nice bottle of sake and eyes for his brother-in-law. He could just see Aya, er Ran, now… "Shi neeeeeeee!' And that would be the end of that… blood al over his new suit, Aya-chan screaming at both of them, sword threw his gut. That was probably as close to penetration he was going to get from the red head.

A light flashed over his eyes and he shielded his face with one arm. "Hello?"

"What the hell are you doing down here," a woman asked, her voice full of authority. She came out of the darkness, a large flashlight in one hand, a medical kit in the other. "How did you get down here? Do you know how to get back to the surface?"

And quite suddenly, Youji realized he didn't know how he'd gotten where he was. He had been going home to the Koneko. He'd been going to try to talk to Ran again. And then… the ground had started rolling, building parts rained down on him, and he'd… he squinted… he'd heard a child crying in a building. No seen a child hanging from a window. And then… he wasn't sure. "I don't know how I got down here. I saw a child, and then I was here."

"Christ," she said, and then he could completely pick out an American accent, west coast. The flashlight's light hit him in the eyes again and again and she leaned close. "I'm Dr. Kimberly Ashton. I'm part of the Children's Hospital. Did you hit your head? Can I look?"

"I'm fine," he said, willing it to be true.

"Damn it all," she snarled, raking the light over him. "Are you a patient? What's your dx?"

"I am not a patient. My name is Youji," he said, pausing, frightened because he couldn't remember his last name. He couldn't remember… something important. He just remembered Ran, and his friends he worked with at the flower shop. He remembered that he'd decided he wasn't going to starve himself to death, but not why he'd wanted to do that in the first place. "Do you have any food on you?"

She blinked. "We have some emergency supplies. There are 9 child patients. They were all outpatients. We were in the elevator when it dropped."

"Are the kids hurt?"

"There were 11 when we started," she said, aggressive, as if she blamed him, in some way. "It's not your fault though. Come on. Can you walk?"

"Of course," he snapped back, as if he blamed her, swaying on his feet as soon as he left the wall. She grabbed him and pulled him close. "I'm just a little hungry."

"Right. Youji. Just starving to death. Do you have an eating disorder?"

He was about to ask if she thought she was a doctor or something, but he guessed she was. "No. I don't have an eating disorder. Not anymore. Do you have a cell phone? I need to call someone."

"No signal down here. When we find our way backup, you're welcome to use my phone." She kept her arm around his waist, holding him close, more medical than any kind of kindness really.

"Deal."

Aya watched the building shake. He stood there in the street, ignoring the fire truck that raced behind him. He had no reason to suspect Youji was in that building, and yet it was as if he could feel Youji pulling at him. Or maybe it was just watching the coming disaster as the building began to shudder and fall in on itself.

A flash caught his attention again, and he realized he'd seen it already, which is what had drawn his attention to the building. His gut told him that there was a swordsman in that about to fall building. And that Youji was in there. Somewhere.

Note: Will try to update soonest!


	12. twelve

This as Rice Paper 12

By Nix Winter

Disclaimer: I don't own WK, or Youji Kudou or Aya. I'm just loafing today because I don't have to get any thing else written and I've forgotten how to do anything, but write.

Any one out there around today might want to play Aya and Youji with me?

Oh

And if I'm off chapters. Sorry! I've been kinda caught up in the release of my new series The Pet, (www(dot)venuspress(dot)com), work, life, the staggering responsibility of learning to be myself and be okay with that.

Chapter Twelve

It was the kind of day that Youji really wished would just start over. He pulled a strand of dirty blond hair behind one ear and watched his new doctor friend lean over and talk to a little kid. They were in some place lower than a garage, a laundry, a boiler room, something like that. The elevator was tilted inside the shaft, two small bodies covered with paint drops. Death.

The ground tilted under Youji, and he felt the weight on his back of someone, and he was holding them, arms out wide, holding them for dear life as if he might lose them. He closed his eyes as that would keep the memory away. It didn't make sense. He couldn't have been holding onto someone with his arms spread wide. He really wasn't sure he wanted to know whatever the hell he'd been doing.

And then the doctor had him by the front of the shirt, holding him as his knees went out from under him. "When we get out of here," she snapped, a fiery optimism given her works strength. "You're going to come see me. I can help you."

"No one can help me."

"Depression is a terrible disease. It is both of the mind and body. Just like shock and infections can lead to problems with the body, grief and emotional trauma can cause an infection of the soul. I can help you. I'm a psychologist specializing grief and dying. Believe me that I can help you because I need your help now."

"Kimberly," he said just an echo of the seduction he used to get up, and he wanted, quiet suddenly to tell her. "I'm in love with Aya. Even if he doesn't do anything more than just be in the same room with me, I crave him." And then there was a big hole. He couldn't remember why he couldn't be near Aya. "I'm a bad man."

She rocked onto the balls of her feet, where she squatted, and he could feel her assessing him. As a woman, as a doctor, as some kind of disaster spawned predator, and he got the distinct impression that the Hippocratic Oath only went so far if he was a risk to the kids she as protecting. Americans were so independent, so lawless. But then. That could have been just his own take on it. "Are you a bad man? I don't think so. You're going to help me find the way back up."

A child cried and another made mothering sounds at it. Youji didn't know anything about children, and he didn't think he'd ever been one. Maybe he was some Oni thrown up out of the Christian hell.

The aftershock started so small, like the first rumbles of a car when it starts, hinting at the power within, but then the ground was rolling again. Childish found some reserve of parental instinct in Youji that had been smothered by something darker in his life. Little arms went around his neck and he held on, an other arm around a bigger boy, holding him close too. There was no protection from the building gone tilted around them, but they held to him as if he could save them. Strength he hadn't had even moments before now rose for him. Comforting words found their way out of his mouth and he rocked them, these children clinging to him. "I will protect you. We will be okay."

oooOOOOOooo

Aya caught himself against a street light as the aftershock came again. The world was cracking and falling apart. Trust was there, with Omi and Ken, that they would take care of his sister.

School, honor, even wishing for his parent's forgiveness didn't matter now. Only Youji mattered. "Youji!"

In his mind he could see Youji so clearly, golden hair, lazy smile, those secret holding green eyes. Youji had a kind of power to him, a lanky lion, and Aya needed to be near him, needed to know; that he was okay.

And that' when he heard the child crying. Through the grate, from somewhere below the street… Aya knelt, slender fingers reaching toward the bent metal, and he knew where Youji had gone. What he didn't know was why Youji hadn't come back out, or why the child was till crying. A moment later Aya had followed Youji's most likely path. He would find his lazy lion.


	13. thirteen

Thin as Rice Paper

By Nix Winter

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kruez.

The aftershock rolled the floor under Aya's feet, staggering him back towards the door. Outside the dark of the building an ambulance screamed and a radio bleed American rock loud enough to herald the end of the world.

"Youji! " Aya screamed, not even sure now why he'd thought Youji had come in here.

A flash of dark blue, the same as Aya-chan's new trench coat, caught Aya's eye and habit had him back out the open doorway. An older woman, erect and proud, turned to smile at him. He blinked, held breath parting his lips. The entire world was surreal.

The woman's smile remained as she spoke. "Ran, I am so proud of you."

The dead know everything. Ran stared at the broken sidewalk where his mother had been. Tokyo was falling down, but Ran was falling back together. The grains of his sanity slid back into the chalice of his mind.

The dead walk the earth when the ground is torn open. It has also been said that the most sparkling moment of sanity happens right before one's mind shatters like so many sparkles in the wind. The building he'd just come back out of crumbled like a house of stone cards. Debris dropping as the structure gave way. He couldn't move, body held in a frozen chill as slender female fingers caressed up the back of his neck.

"Surely, you're not surprised to see me?" Neu asked, sexual invitation dripping from her words. "Or maybe you thought you'd kill forever and never die?"

"You!" Aya regained control of himself and spun around. "What have you done to Youji?"

"What have I done to Youji?" Asuka rolled her eyes. "I tried to warn his friends and your sister. She's not good enough for him, but I still tried to warn her. I tried to show you where he was, but did you go in and get him out? NO! You had to go and do the worst thing you possibly could!"

"You stay away from my sister! Why can't you just die and pass over to the other side? Have you been haunting Youji? Is that why he's been so sick?"

Asuka sneered. "Oh dying's not that easy, Fujimiya. And yes, I've been haunting Youji, but I'm not the only one."

"I'll get a priest and help you cross over," Aya threatened. "Leave Youji alone, Asuka, please. He loved you, and what happened is killing him. Please, Asuka, leave Youji alone."

"I will, if you will," she said, pointing over his shoulder.

Aya turned, numb, feeling like the air around him dragged, tugged at him like water. And there was his body, laying on broken pavement like a battered doll. Concrete rubbish lay against his face, cheek torn, red bright against jagged broken concrete.

"But I didn't feel a thing."

"Have you ever been strangled," she asked, now sitting on the hood of a car by where Aya's body lay.

"You shouldn't have been trying to kill us," Aya said, arms hanging at his sides, waiting for his chest to rise, waiting for some sign that his body was alive.

"Hurts like a bitch, getting strangled, but I'm not going to forgive you for getting yourself killed. All you were supposed to do was save him. If he were happy again, I could cross over, but no, you've got to stand under falling rocks."

"It's not like I meant to get my head cracked open!" Aya snapped. "Where is Youji?

"Youji is in the basement of that building that just fell on you," Asuka said.

"Aya!" Youji screamed.

Spirit form Aya felt as if his heart would have stopped when he saw Youji, cheeks sunken, dark circles under his eyes a child holding around his neck, so skinny, and he was nearly the most beautiful sight. Youji stumbled, shook as he let the child off his back, then scrambled to Aya's body.

Youji had such long fingers. Aya loved Youji's fingers, loved his wrists, the strength in him, and he wanted to make things right. He wanted to tell Youji how he felt, explain. "Youji, I was looking for you. That kiss, it meant something to me, but I wanted to be a man with honor again before I kissed you again."

"God damn, fucking stupid, Aya! What the hell did you think you were doing?" Youji pulled the concrete away from Aya's face, shaking fingers touching torn skin, smearing blood. "Aya."

Bloody fingers searched for Aya's pulse, even as the American doctor knelt by him. "Someone you know?"

Youji nodded. "It's Aya. How could Tokyo just fall down and take him away?"

Her fingers had Aya's wrist. "He's not dead, Youji. Can you carry him?"

"We should get a backboard. He may have spinal injuries," Youji said, leaning so close trying to feel Aya's breath. Americans.

"And rocks shouldn't fall from the sky. That building's still coming down and there may be more aftershocks. He's bleeding badly and I can take care of him, but I haven't got a lot of time to do things nicely. Just across the street, through the doors, and we'll find a gurney."

She was rising then, motioning for the kids to come with her.

Helpless, undecided, Youji knelt there, fingers caressing Aya's hair as sirens screamed, people screamed, cried. It was the sound of Tokyo wailing and he didn't know what to do. He'd done so many things wrong and he couldn't bare to make another mistake, to hurt Aya more than he already had.

And then there was Asuka's voice in his ear, "Just pick him up. He'll be alright, and he does love you, baby. Just pick him up, and Youji, you didn't hurt me, you saved me, freed me, and I know he loves you, so I can leave now."

"Asuka?" he whispered, but the chill was gone, away from his heart and darkness faded back like holding Aya was the bleach to clean his soul.

Aya was heavy in his arms and sweat broke out over his face as he shoved himself to his feet, but he was okay.

The doctor held the door for him and he carried Aya into the dark of a hospital running on emergency lights. It would be okay. Somehow.


End file.
